In a Hundred Different Ways
by Mistykins06
Summary: A collection of Sherlolly one shots.
1. Change Just One Thing

Change just one thing

John and Mary's reception has ended, but Molly cant help but feel the need to go check up on Sherlock, just to make sure he was alright...

* * *

"What's the address love?"

"221 Baker street, please." Molly Hooper shivered as she settled into the backseat of the cab as it took off from her flat to the familiar address of her friend: the one and only pain in the ass detective and the official hero of the day, Sherlock Holmes.

Truth be told, she wasn't all too sure why she was headed to his flat. Despite being rather worn out after one hell of a wedding day (seriously even a wedding reception became a murder mystery dinner theater with her lot) still...Molly's mind wouldn't let her rest till she saw that he was alright.

She'd bid Tom goodnight, assuring him that she was headed to bed, with her scheduled to work in the morning, and he went home to tend to the dog. Molly waited till she was sure he'd left before she pulled the fascinator out of her hair, taking down the updo that had slid and fell all day. After a quick brushing it fell into waves. Next, she'd debated changing from the cheery dress to something comfortable, but decided not to only changing her shoes to a pair on slip on runners before setting off.

Sooner than she'd hoped, the cab reached the address and out she came. She used her key to enter the main door and walked up the stairs to his flat. He certainly hadn't asked her to come, but she knew that she was expected there somehow all the same.

"You are too late Molly. Mrs. Hudson has already been up to chew my ear out for leaving early." Sherlock's low bored voice reported from his chair, long legs extended out as he slouched deep into his preferred leather chair. He still wore most his morning suit, however the coat was thrown haphazardly on the floor and Sherlock had his shirt sleeves rolled up, vest half undone and the tie hung loose around his neck. There also set a half empty decanter of an amber liquid on the side table.

Molly walked in and slipped off her coat and sat her bag on the sofa before she strolled over into the kitchen and grabbed a mug ( nicked from speedy's cafe below no doubt ) and returned to the living room. She held it out. "May I?" Sherlock raised a heavy brow but reached to pour anyways. Molly then reached over and dragged a chair from the desk to the empty space between the detectives and the chair that would probably forever be thought of as 'John's' and sat facing the unlit fireplace. She wouldn't have dared to sit there. Not on this night. It was Johns, and needed to stay thus for at least today.

Sherlock eyed her but said nothing as she sat in silence. Molly took a drink an coughed against the burning liquid going down her throat. It may have been a very nice scotch, but Molly still wasn't a fan.

"Johns preference, not mine." Sherlock noted, taking a sip of his own tumbler. He handled it burning its way down his throat without so much as a flinch.

Still Molly sat looking at him, considering whether to say anything or not to him. The question that she'd asked in that long ago day. Are you ok? It might suit, yet she felt that seemed predictable and redundant. Sherlock clearly felt much the same. That's what he was expecting her to come. What he expected her to ask. And clearly they didn't need to fake him being okay tonight.

"Just say whatever you've come to say Molly. Ask me if I'm well or congratulate me on my speech. Just go on with it. As I said Mrs. Hudson took care of the berating earlier so if we could kindly skip replicating that-"

"I never even got to speak to you today." She said softly, meeting his eye. " How are you handling everythig?"

Sherlock rolled her eyes at her. "Splendid Molly! A capital day. Solved three cases, prevented a murder, married off John, and informed he and Mary of their forthcoming child. Banner day all in all."

"A child?! Mary's pregnant?"Molly must have been gaping like a fish, and Sherlock was not amused. Snapping her jaw closed she composed herself a bit before asking,"How did they tell you?!"

"They did not have to tell me. In fact I was the one who told them."

"So she didn't know she was? Not even a suspicion?" Molly sipped from her mug.

Sherlock watched her tentative sip and a ghost of a smile appeared while he went on. "No. Mary was completely ignorant. Had ignored all her obvious symptoms or attributed them to nerves or exhaustion. I don't understand their surprise however. Mary and John both know that antibiotics diminish a birth control pill effects, but they must have chanced it before she was clear after the sinus infection she got last month. A foolish assumption but one that they are growing to be rather happy about."

"Well I'm happy for them." Molly relaxed back. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What? And you aren't?"

"Another change." He intoned.

"Change is inevitable."

"Not preferable."

"Do you honesty wish things would stay just as they are?" Molly tilted her head and asked.

Sherlock looked fully on her, comfortable and confident with him,

So far removed from the stuttering blushing woman she once was. This gift of a friend who came to be with him despite the lateness of the hour. This beautiful woman who had offered her love so freely and her trust without question. The person who'd held him as the adrenaline of faking his death raged through him. The one whose arms he'd longed to be in during his lonely years away. A woman who planned to marry an idiot that bore a striking resemblance to himself.

"No." It came out for too emphatically yet he didn't bother to deny it. It was the truth after all. Breathing deeply and holding her far too curious and clever gaze he watched Molly formulate the question he dreaded and longed for her to ask.

"What would you change Sherlock?" She nearly whispered.

"I'd have asked you to dance tonight." Innocent enough statement. Far more dangerous in practice however. Sherlock found himself standing and striding over to the iPod that just this morning had played John and Mary's first dance while he'd practiced in the empty flat. Once the sound of him playing filled the air he slowly spin towards his guest, offering her a hand. "Molly, would you do me the pleasure of accompanying me for this dance?"

Wide brown eyes and her mouth in a soft 'O' she stood up and allowed Sherlock to confidently place his right hand on her waist and turned the other hand in his left so he could hold it easier. On the next count he moved his feet. And Molly, hesitantly followed along with him. The pair danced in silence for the entirety of the song. Neither one commenting or resisting as Sherlock drew them closer to one another as they'd spun around the room, lead by Sherlock's superb dancing skills ( of course who would dance like bloody Fred Astaire, Molly thought) till the last note drew to a close the stood still and close to one another. The look in his eyes reminded her of a stairwell on that cold winters day after he'd returned. When he'd said such things to her about mattering the most and she'd spoken of nothing but meeting Tom and how nice Tom was and how she couldn't do this because of Tom.

Just like she shouldn't be there right that moment. Because of Tom.

But Sherlock needed someone... Didn't he? Maybe even her. Just her. Right now. Right here. And she wanted to not think about Tom. Sherlock must has deduced that line of thought because he began to ease back slightly, causing Molly to realize that she was the one holding onto him just as tightly as he'd been clinging to her. Searching her face he relaxed and obliged her request to stay close by sheer will it seemed. She felt him lean down and she crashed her eyes closed as she was so sure his lips where going to land on that spot. The one that felt branded from his two precious, chaste kisses.

It came, just not on her cheek where she expected. Instead her lips took the full weight of his kiss. It was slow, sensuous and tender, and Molly Hooper was helpless against it. Sherlock's hands slid up her arms and waist to hold her head and to comb through her hair, while her own wrapped languidly around his waist. How long it went on for was unsure, and she was almost positive of was that this was Sherlock way to telling her things that he couldn't speak aloud. The things he desperately needed her to understand. That he cared for her more than he could tell her, that he longed to be close to her. Needed to have her there and now.

Or maybe he was just lonely. The thought crashed into her. Unbidden and strong. Maybe he was just willing to do whatever it took to not be alone tonight. That thought was enough to make her freeze. She pulled back, what was she doing? Sherlock's glazed eyes lingered shut, but hers were cleared and wide. This was not right. There was no way this was the right thing to do.

"Sherlock." She said firmly, willing him to tell her she was wrong. He seemed to focus on her face again, but not meeting her eye. Tenderness and rawness and peace glowed and ebbed all over his features, it caused Molly to ache deep in her heart as he raised a hand once more to move a

hair that had crossed her face. So tender. Molly clung closer, placing her forehead on his chest and delighting in the comforting smell of him. Sliding her hands on to the unbelievably firmness beneath his shirt. The Stupid light glinted on her diamond gracing the fourth finger of her left hand. Tom.

"Sherlock..." He was going to ask her I stay. She knew it. Felt it. But she couldn't do that. The kiss... That goddamn kiss was damning enough. She had to leave: immediately. Both dropped their hands and Molly turned and grabbed her bag, running as fast as she could with out so much as another spoken word.

It took several blocks to find a cab, not her safest decision but as soon as she settled in Sherlock's text alert rang out.

Did The cab find you? He's one of my contacts. Joey will get you home safe. -SH

Sure enough the placard read Joseph Miller and she relaxed. Leave it to Sherlock to keep her safe as she was running away from him. The cab dropped her off, refuses payment from her and drove off.

Yes, thank you. - MH. She text, safe and sound in her flat once more. The tone rang out again.

I don't regret what happened tonight Molly. -SH

Molly flopped down onto her overstuffed sofa. "God help me but neither do I." She whispered back in answer.


	2. Wild Streak

A tiny drabble written for my Friend Thestarlitrose for her birthday. ( Previously posted on Tumblr)

* * *

 **Wild Streak**

"I hope that we'll be able to get this case solved by dinner. I would actually like to see my wife and child sometime this week." John complained, as he accompanied his friend.

"Relax John. I have all faith that Molly will have the results in looking at it to prove that it was the wife who poisoned Mr. Crane."

"The wife?! But the man died after ingesting poisoned coffee and died in his desk all the way in town." John argued.

The two burst through the lab doors as Sherlock began to give his deductions. "Classic misdir-" he cut off, eyes looked on the familiar for if his preferred pathologist. John stopped too. The two men stated forward at Molly, who had her back to them, talking on the phone to another department and answering rather stupid questions about the results of a test she'd run.

She also had blue hair. Well not bright blue, and not all over. No, Molly had done something to the bottom length and it waved with gentle waves. That were blue. The two men looked wordlessly at one another for one moment before Sherlocks eyes snapped to Molly with a perplexed look on his face.

"Molly got a new hair style." John whispered.

"Obviously." Sherlock stage whispered back.

"You should tell her it looks nice."

"I'm not so sure it does." The overgrown man-child pouted. He abhorred change, and this was absolutely a change.

"Yes it does and you should tell her so."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because she's Molly whom you kind of have a bit of a crush on."

"That's absurd John. Even for you."

"She's the only one I've ever seen you apologies to, the one you went too fake your death. The only person you'd let hit you multiple times without some sort of personal gain. Now, either you let me call it a crush or we'll discuss how it's probably deeper than that. Any preference?"

Sherlocks eyes closed tight and he pulled in a deep breath of annoyance and marginal defeat. "What should I say then?"

"Tell her how nice she looks." John reasoned.

"But then she'll think I want something from her here." Sherlock said, aborting that idea.

"Tell her it's a nice change then." John smiled. "Look, it sounds like you've solved this one, but call me if anything weird comes up and I'll get home to Mary and the baby and you... You be nice too Molly." He laughed and walked back through the door leaving a frozen solid Sherlock.

A mere moment later ( much to short to Sherlocks chagrin,) Molly finished up and looked warily over her shoulder at her expected guest. "Hullo Sherlock. Where'd John go?"

"He had to get home. Wanted me to tell you he liked the new look though." He mumbled, not quite able to look her in he eye.

"Oh... Well that was kind." Molly admonished. Clearly she wanted to ask him what his thoughts on the look were himself but she knew that he might deal less favorably. "So the results that you wanted came back the poison was powdered."

Sherlock just stared at her. Her hair while so similar up top gradually changed into an unfamiliar color. "Blue."

"No it's white typically. No coloring was found in-"

"No, your hair. It's all blue." Sherlock acknowledged.

"Teal, actually. And not all." Molly huffed annoyed.

"You have blue hair." He repeated numbly.

"Fine yes. I have blue hair. Any other statements or deductions about it Mr brilliant detective?" She exploded.

"It's a tad bit sexy." He murmured low. Molly was sure that it was her ears playing tricks on her when she's heard it.

"I'm sorry what?" She stopped, looking at him to confirm or deny what she's heard, Or what she thought she'd heard because she was fairly positive that she'd never heard him say the word 'sexy'.

"You look sort of...wild and... Sexy."

"Does that mean you like it?" Molly questioned. Sherlock was looming over her heavily now. How that happened she couldn't quiet say but she couldn't care less how he's gotten there. She was just glad he was there.

He didn't answer, instead his hand moved to play gently with one tendril of her hair and lifted it, mesmerized as it wrapped automatically around his fingertips. Once it release he used that hand and used it to support her chin, the opposite one came to rest on her hip, pulling her close. He looked from her lips and up to her eyes, and back down as he took moved to kiss her in a none too gentle, very hungry and very much perfect for him kiss. They pulled apart and Molly felt his hands loosening in her hair where they had been slipping and sliding.

"Your hair... I'm afraid it's driven me rather wild, Molly."

"It's about time something did Sherlock!" Molly laughed and pulled him down so that she could kiss him and play with his own hair that had been driving her equally as wild for years now.


	3. I'll Drink to That

**I'll drink to that**

this little ditty is all Sherlolly of on the side lines and Warstan as well. There's a post on tumblr of a pic of Tom and David. The caption read; Meat dagger AU: He tries to solve crimes and I tweet about it. Well that struck me as a bit of inspiration and I fell in love with the idea of those two meeting and becoming friends. And low and behold...Then this happened.

* * *

As far as weddings go, the wedding of one John Hamish Watson to one Mary Elisabeth Morstan was going to be damn near impossible to top. It wasn't the food, the flowers or the vows that had made it so. No, the day would always be remembered by each of the attendees as the day they witnessed the most insane, yet brilliant best man speech of all time. Complete with a surprise attempted murder.

The dinner, and subsequent interviews with local authorities had had all been preformed, the cake was finally cut and served for tea and the sun had set upon the day. But now the best man once again held the crowds attention as he played a waltz on his violin as the new Dr and Mrs Watson danced along, grinning like happy fools in love the were. It was during this happy moment that two of the guests began to feel just what a miserable day this was for them.

The shorter of the two, David was suffering a broken heart. He felt utterly crushed. Mary had breezed into his life, magically filling some gap in his life that he'd previously never known of it existence until she appeared. He'd been instantly smitten, drawn in by her warm smiles and quick wit. It all had been going so well, until that dreaded 'we can still be friends' speech. He grimaced. Fat chance of that now. That psychopath of a best man had made damn well sure of that. David looked at the newest Mrs. Watson and knew that he had to move on. She would never be his like before. It was time for a new start, and a new drink. With that in mind he headed to the bar.

A taller man joined him a few moments later as he waited for the bar tender to get to him. The man had meandered toward the bar when he'd found himself needing a distraction, an excuse to get away from the woman he'd come with. He needed a drink. A strong one at that. He'd whispered in his fiancées ear where he was going and saw her she'd nod back with a distracted 'mmm' sound, but never took her eyes off the man playing violin on the stage.

Not that he expected her to at that point. After all his Molly wasn't his. In fact she'd never been. Never would be. No, she'd be Sherlock Holmes's little slave. Not the man would love her. Or acknowledge her. Seriously what was that about? Nearly every time he'd seen the man his eyes had been on Molly, glaring, studying and at one moment looking rather hungrily at his fiancé.

Not that Molly had been any better. She was far worse in fact. Oh, she'd acted properly nonchalant towards the man prior to today, but that all seemed to change during the ceremony. Once it began she couldn't stop looking at him. Even during the exchange of vows, Molly was softly tearing up but looking at the best man. Not to mention how she'd acted during the mans speech. Tom, rubbed his bruised hand in thought. That most certainly had been excessive force!

Tom, sighed heavily. It was time to face the facts. His fiancé loved another called for whiskey, lots and lots of whiskey. Giving his request to the bartender, he stood and nodded at the man waiting on his own drink.

"Crazy day, eh?" The smaller man asked.

"Never seen anything like that. Hope I never will either." The tall one answered.

"Right? Man for a moment there I thought I was the one about to die. Or kill he best man, wasn't to sure what was happening." The bartender slid over his drink and David answered with a nod of thanks. "Did you hear the guy say that they thought he was drunk?"

"Oh." Tom paused. "Yeah, um that was ah, that was me."

David laughed. "Hey you only said what the rest of us were thinking. The whole thing was bizarre."

Tom gave a relieved, "I know! Utterly bizarre."

David stood and watched over the dancing couple before asking, "So, you a friend of the bride or the groom?"

"Oh, well um neither really. I mean I've met them of course, but only a few times. I came with my fiancée, she's known John for years, but she and Mary get along great to so um both?" Tom was aware that he was over-sharing, rambling even, but he could not stop it.

"Oh engaged huh? Whose the lucky lady?" David asked, enjoying having someone to distract him from the dancing.

"She ah, she's the one in yellow up in the front." Tom said looking back towards the bartender. Wishing he'd quit taking so damn long with his damn drink dammit. He saw the man beside him looking to find Molly then he of course noticed the way she was looking at that damn best man.

"Oh." He said, before turning toward the bartender. "You better make that a double for my friend here."

"Yep." Tom answered. At least it wasn't all in his head.

"Hey mate, it could be worse." David tried to comfort.

"Oh yeah, how so?" Tom challenged, because he was having a damn hard time thinking of what could be worse then loving someone who loved someone else.

"You could be watching the woman you love dance right now like I am." Tom turned to see his companion eyeing the smiling bride. The bartender finally slid his whiskey to Tom and he turned to his companion, up holding up his glass.

"Well, I'll drink to that."

* * *

From that day forward the two men were fast friends, David even let Tom moved in after he'd let his flat go assuming he'd be moving in with Molly. The two of them got a tad bit drunk that first night and began a wildly popular spoof twitter account of the famous duo that 'ruined their lives'. The are currently being approached to have their own book deal and they're working on having their own reality tv show. There are also rumors that the Queen herself has read their tweets. But I'm sure those are just rumors...


	4. Don't Ask

Another slightly Sherlolly story from the sides story. This one is one the angsty side. I woke up at 3am with this in my head. Seriously, where did this come from?

 _Don't ask her on a straight tequila night_

 _She'll start thinkin' about him, and she's ready to fight_

 _Blames her broken heart on every man in sight_

 _On a straight tequila night_

A few times a week Molly would join the group from St Barts and hit the pub after work. Most nights it was to get a glass of wine to unwind and remind herself that life went on, no matter what terrible thing she's felt with at work. Sometimes, if she had the next day off she'd indulge in a vodka cranberry and join the dancing that inevitably filled the pub as the evening grew later. Smiling with ease and singing along to Prince's raspberry beret, because dammit that was her song!

But then there was those rare nights she slipped in quietly and ordered a straight tequila shot. Then another. And then three more.

"It means she's thinking about _him_." Kelly, a doctor form the A &E said to her companion.

"Him, who?" Her friend asked. Sipping by her drink and staring at the tiny pathologist who'd been nothing but sweetness to her since she started at St. Barts a month ago. The woman could drink.

"That bloke from the papers. The one that jumped off the Hospital roof six months back."

"Sherlock Holmes!" The new nurse, Ann shrieked. "She knew Sherlock Holmes!?" She asked excitedly.

"Not just knew. Was hopelessly in love with him. They did a lot of work together down in the lab. His death was particularly hard on her. Poor thing. Not that he ever paid her, or anyone the slightest bit of attention after he got what he wanted." Kelly gossiped.

"So what happens when she drinks the tequila." Ann questioned, without taking her eyes off the woman at the bar.

"She gets... Feisty."

"No way!"

"Mmhmm just watch." It didn't take too long before one of the pubs lotharios made his way over too her. Thinking her an easy target no doubt. The slick handsome man prattled off a cheesy pick up line that earned him glare and a firm "go away" but the fool continued on. A few more failed attempts then Molly exploded a number of loud obscenities and harassment to him before the man ran away.

"That's what happens."

"Wow I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes." Ann laughed. "Well done Molly!"

"She'll give man that tries hell. Just you watch. "

And watch the did as two more men walked up and struck out. Then a man approached their own table. "I know you! You dated Cecil a few years back right? Amy was it?" A tall man had come up to their table smiling kind and warmly.

"It's Ann, but yes that was me and you are oh yes you were his roommate.. Um... Um." She tried but no name came to her mind.

"Tom, no worries. I don't think we met then once or twice. I thought I knew you so I thought I'd come over and say hello and see how you are." Wouldn't want to be rude if you'd seen me." He laughed.

"I'm good working at Bart's and-" Ann was cut off.

"Kelly, Ann good to see you both. Whose your friend here?" Molly Hooper had made her way to the table and locked her eyes on Tom with a rather hungry look about her.

"Oh, an old friend of a friend... This is Tom um, well I can't recall his last name." Ann admitted, curious as to what would happen next as Molly smiled charmingly at the man.

"Ah Tom. Nice to meet you. Buy me a drink?" Molly reached over and grabbed his arm and pulled him to the bar leaving him no choice but to be dragged away, looking bewildered but amused by the beautiful woman who lead him. Kelly and Ann watched and gasped as the two walked to the bar and had a quick drink before the pathologist grabbed him once more and dragged him towards the door and out of the pub.

"Does that normally happen?" Ann asked awestruck. Her companion shook her head no.

"Never! I've never seen her do that ever." Kelly laughed. The two sipped their drinks in quiet thought before Kelly spoke again. "That guy... He sort of favored _him_ don't you think."

Ann's eyes brightened. "OH MY GOD!" He did. Tall, curly hair and blue eyes. "Put him in that long coat and they could be twins!"

"I'll bet it's just a one night stand. Let her have some fun." The two giggled again. It would never last.

At least that's what they thought until they got the invite to the engagement party and Tom's hearty thank you for the introduction.

* * *

Straight tequila night, as performed by John Anderson written by Debbie Hupp and Kent Robbins


	5. Tidying Up

**Tidying Up**

Occasionally I get asked to fill a prompt. Its still no territory for me, but I try to give it my all. Tumblr user creating-genius sent me this: Sherlock being totes in love with Molly over something little.

* * *

Saturday mornings at Molly Hooper's was a hectic time. Molly's love of order made her keep her flat fairly spic and span. She'd pick up, dust, and Hoover while clothes washed before placing them on the couch in the lounge to fold while watching Telly.

Sherlock Holmes knew this routine because of the ample amount of time he spent hiding in her flat. He knew how she put her earbuds in and would loose herself in the music till she forgot the man sitting in her kitchenette who, it seemed, was looking deep within his mind palace doing his own tidying. Of course, it was a little difficult to concentrate when Molly would stretch and the edge of her shirt would raise revealing a small amount of luminescent white skin, (had it ever, in fact seen the sun?) or bend just so and he found his eyes greatly enjoying just how round her posterior was as it bounced as she cleaned.

But his favorite, was when she got so involved with her music and cleaning that she forgot that he was even in the room. She would start humming, tapping and then wiggling about as she sang to some pop music that had her singing about friendships enduring and some correlation to 'being lovers'.

It wasn't his cup of tea, or even what he would constitute as real dancing, but he was willing to admit (and only to himself) that he enjoyed watching her shake about. The way that she let herself go was riveting and inspiring and...

Sexy.

He felt his lip lift at the thought. Molly Hooper who had tried for years so hard to catch his eye with makeup, flirting and showy dresses when all it had taken to catch his eye was to be herself. Molly Hooper, the baggy dressed, brilliant specialist registrar, who saw right through him when no one else could... was most alluring when she was being herself.

"Are you going to keep watching me dance all day or are you going to help me clean?" Molly's voice cut into his thoughts. Her back was still turned towards him as she wiped a cloth along her bookshelf near the table.

Busted.

"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, unsure of what he was supposed to admit and say to that.

Molly turned around half smile on her face, "Are you just going to sit there and watch my ass as I can so clearly feel you doing, or are you going to come help me?"

"Um... I wasn't... I was... If you weren't..." Sherlock waved his hands wildly about gesturing at her body. "shaking yourself all about I could finish my own tidying."

"Your own tidying?" She laughed.

"Mind palace, housekeeping." He said, eyes closed to hide his indignation. "Very pressing work."

"Housekeeping! Is that why you show up here each Saturday, to do your housekeeping?" Molly laughed. "And to think I though you just came whenever you knew I'd be cleaning because you'd get to stare at my backside."

"I do not... stare at your..."

"At my what?" Molly teased hands planted on the table before Sherlock.

"It's just that, I find it easy to do my own maintenance while you are doing yours. You relax me." He watches her expression carefully, glad to her continued good humor.

"We've become really comfortable with each other I think." Molly noted softening her smile.

"That's... good, I suppose. " Sherlock responded. "F-friends should be comfortable with one another."

"Friends?" Molly questioned, her eyebrows lifted high on his face. "Friends don't stare at one another's behinds, Sherlock."

"You've stated at my own rather a lot too Molly. And don't even get me started on that thing you do where you stare at my shirt buttons while you do that biting on your lips. Now _that_ is rather distracting. Like you're imagining it's the button you are biting and not your lip, while all I can think of is how it feel to be my teeth biting down on you. "It was an accidental confession, but she had to know he was aware of her own behavior as well.

Molly paled then flashed hot and adorable pink. "That's not... I... Those shirts need to be bigger!" She nearly wailed.

Sherlock couldn't help it, he laughed.

He laughed openly, but not harshly. When Molly realized that it wasn't at her expense she began to smile and chuckle, low and easy. Comfortable was a truly great place to find themselves, but Sherlock knew that they were working towards something nearly dangerous and exciting.

He was falling in love with the smiling woman before him, and it was time that he did something about that.


	6. Leaving

**Leaving**

miss-whiddlesmort asked: Hi, there. Do you still make sherlolly promts? If so, can you make one based on the song "I hope you find it" by Cher, please? Thanks!Well hey I think this is my first prompt fill. Hope you like it!

* * *

Saying goodbye to London was difficult. London was, after all, the only home Molly had ever known. But it was becoming impossible to live in after events of the past year. And so, she excepted the fact that she needed to get away from the city she loves so dearly.

She had just gotten off a flight to New York and was awaiting the next leg off her journey to her new home when her phone buzzed.

A picture of little Hannah Watson in a dress that Molly had purchased for her shown along with the name 'Mary Watson'. Taking a deep breath as a stab of worry shot through her she answered. "Hello?"

But no answering greeting sounded. Instead she just heard yelling. "Mary? Mary! What's going on?"

Friction sounded, almost as if the phone was in a pocket. A pocket dial. Molly was just about to hang up when she heard her name across the line.

"Do you think Molly knows how you feel Sherlock? Did you ever tell her?"

"Of course she knows!" A clearly inebriated Sherlock bellowed."She always knows!" Drunk. Sherlock Holmes was drunk. What was he doing drunk? It was barely 10pm on a Tuesday back in London.

John Watson's voice warbled in and out. "You know, I don't think she did know that you felt that deeply for her." He was slurring a bit too. A team event then she surmised.

"Had to have. Of course she knows. I told her… When I first came back from the dead. I told her then that I hope she'd be happy."

Molly froze, bag slung over her shoulder and right in the middle of a crowded walk way to throw all of her focus into what was happening somewhere in London.

"But, I hope she remembers. And I hope she's happy…. In whatever city she decides to call home. Does she know that? Molly deserves to be happy. She does. The rest of us have to much blood on our hands to ever be happy. But her… She deserves it."

Molly hears Mary sit down, or so it sounds like beside the detective. For a moment the sound is muffled, but she hears another scratch of fabric and the sound becomes clear once more. Ah, clever Mary clearly know what was happening within her pocket. "…The woman deals with cadavers Sherlock, I'm not sure you could call her hands clean exactly."

"Do you think it will take long? For her to find happiness?" A mirthless laugh sounded out. "I hope she finds a man that gives her what she's always wanted. A home a family… All of it."

"If you ask me, all Molly 'opppppeeer ever wanted was you." John giggled over her last name. "Fancied you for a great number of years. Far too long."

"Why would she do that though?" He nearly demanded. "All I ever did was hurt her. I could never be the kind of man she wanted. Why would she want me?" He sounded exacerbated.

"Because she sees what we see Sherlock. That under all your pain in the arse behaviors you are a great guy. And she sees it easier than anyone else." Mary encouraged.

"Not that it helps me now that's gone. She's gone forever!" He mourned. Molly heard the sound of a glass being dragged off a table and what she imagined was a glass of something strong being emptied before it was slammed down once more.

Mary must be rubbing his back, given the repetitive friction sounds. "She's not dead Sherlock. She's not gone for ever. She'll come back. Just wait and see."

"What, am I supposed to wait for her? Like some sort of love sick pup?" He paused. "Just for the chance that she wasn't lying about coming back to visit? Because she was lying. She never wants to see me again. I know it. So where does that leave me?"

"If you were any man other than you I'd say just let her be." Sighed John. "But I think you should tell her."

"Tell her what?" He queried. Oh, but she could just see the turn of his face as he asked that. Molly slid out of the path and leaned against the wall as she listened.

"That you love her you dolt." John said.

"I never said that!" Sherlock denied and Molly slammed her head back against the wall. And we're back to reality, she thought.

"I'm afraid it's painfully obvious though." Mary soothed. "You love her and she loves you and I think you two could be happy. If you just let yourselves be." Mary was silent before speaking again. "So now you go get her. Bring her home."

"She doesn't want to be here. She left. Remember that? Mary, Molly left St Bart's she Left London, and left us. She choose to leave because of me. She was right, the key to her happiness isn't here and she left."

"I LEFT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!" Molly shouted into her phone. The people all around her looked at her like she had lost her mind, yet she paid them no mind, her mind was too occupied on a trio of her loved ones somewhere in London. "I LEFT BECAUSE I KNEW IF I TOLD YOU, THAT YOU WOULD TELL ME THAT YOU FEEL THE SAME!"

The scratching and movement became fast and frantic as she could sense the phone being yanked out of Mary's clothing. "Molly! Molly are you there? Where are you?" Sherlock asked.

Molly closed her eyes as she heard the relief in his voice. "I'm in New York." She paused. "But it's just a stop over ya know?" Oh what an idiot she sounded like.

"Molly… What did you mean you left because you know that I love you?"

"Oh Sherlock, I've known it since you came home. You told me to be happy with Tom. But he wasn't you, then when I was finally past him you for exiled from the country." Smiling though Molly remembered the way he's protected her and the Watson's and all of his closest friends. "But I don't want you to hate me Sherlock."

"I don't see how I could ever-"

"I do want a family Sherlock. I want a place to belong, people to belong with. And I know you value your life as it is. It just wouldn't work. We love each other, but it just wouldn't work."

"You are wrong you know. "

"Sherlock…"

"John, Mary and Hannah, the Watson's, they love you. Ms. Hudson adores you and wishes you'd come around Baker Street more often so that she could dote on you. Geoffrey Lestrade, thinks of you like a sister and would do anything to protect you. As would over half of NSY's officers. I should know as they've threatened me often enough over the years.

"The simple fact is Molly, you have family here. You are wanted and loved and London will always be where you belong most."

"And you?"

"Oh my Molly, Molly. Where everyone else merely wants you back home. I fear I'm the only one who needs you here, at home." He paused and Molly knew he was fighting a battle of words. "London's not home to me right now Molly. It feels barren and hollow. Molly, you are home." He whispered his final words. "Come home. Please come home."

Molly put the phone on top of her head as she gloried in his words. Barren and hollow, that's how London had felt while he's been 'dead'. Is that how Atlanta was going to feel as well? She put the phone back to her ear.

"I… I've got to go." She finally confessed. "But Sherlock, if you mean it, all you've said… If you mean it, then I'll give you an answer when I come home, alright? But you can call me, or we can skype and talk about it more. Can you do that?"

"But Molly!" She would suppose later on that this was when Mary threatened physical violence on his person. "I… Suppose it's agreeable. But you are going to communicate with me regularly, or you just might find me at your door one day."

"Oh, promises, promises!" Molly laughed. There was a peace she felt at her core that told her she was making the right choice. It was easy to feel light hearted and free."Alright now, I've got to make it to my gate. I'll um, text you all when I make it to Atlanta. And thank you."

"Call Molly. Call me, when you get there." Sherlock mildly instructed, lest it sound like the plea it was.

"It will be late Sherlock," Molly reasoned. "I'll text."

"But I'll be up regardless." Sherlock answered. "I won't rest till your settled."

"That sounds terribly sentimental of you, Sherlock." She grinned, like a fool on he middle of the airport she just beamed.

"Well, it's all your fault. I fell in love with you Molly. I care far more than I can help."

"I wonder if your still going to be this upfront after you sober up." It was an honest thought. He was possibly to deep to even know what he was truly saying right now.

"Hmmm, don't know. But I still will care about you. Just as much. Always." Then the man let out an agonized groan. "Why must we be apart? I would like nothing more than to be kissing you right now."

"Are you trying to seduce me Mr. Holmes?" She was meandering closer to her gate. Ha! Molly Hopper, engaging with flirtations with one notable consulting detective with an international reputation... it was a thrilling experience!

"Yes. I've never done it before with an actual intent. First time for that."

"Good to know." Molly said smiling. The boarding call was beginning to sound. "Looks like I'm up. I have to be off now."

"But you're not coming home." He sounded broken over it.

"The time will fly by." Molly assured.

"Not unless you find some rugged American. He'll drag up to his cabin on a mountain and will make love to you. You'll forget all about the silly man who loves you in Britain."

Laughing aloud Molly spoke. "We'll just wait and see Sherlock. That does sound very convincing. " Taking a deep breath after he didn't respond. "Oh but I really have to go now."

"Alright. I… Miss you Molly."

"Oh Sherlock. Go sober up. I'll talk to you soon."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

They disconnected and Molly stood beaming like an idiot.

Looks like agreeing to teach for the next three weeks in America was the best discussion she ever made.

* * *

The fist time I ever said I love you to my husband was at the airport when we were separated by the security gate and i was running late for my flight. He handed me a card to read on my flight and as I was going through security I read it. It was just a simple note, but he ended it with 'Love'. A big deal after being together for 9 months and dating off and on for 2 years. I was so mad that I couldn't go back and hear it face to face that I called him and made him tell me over and over and over till I boarded my flight.

Then I made him wait 3 weeks till i came back home to tell him how I felt in person.


	7. A little Out There

For TheNewJefferson, as a birthday prompt fill. She requested Domestic Sherlolly, and while it started there, it didn't stay. And it's all her fault.

This one is rated T+, because well it ends in a rather intimate place.

Lazy days were rare, but treasured at Baker Street. Molly had moved in a few month after the second showdown with Moriarty made Sherlock rather forcibly reveal his heart both to her and to the whole world in one go. Now that the hullabaloo died they had settled into a familiar domestic pattern together and when a rare day with no cases met with a weekday off for Molly the two would happily find themselves curled up together on the couch with the cat beside, on top or in between them as they read from separate books.

This particular lazy day found them sequestered on opposite ends of the sofa, legs tangled together as they sat engrossed within their respective tomes. Sherlock had a copy of an old chemistry text book from the past century while Molly was giving a fiction series that her friend had just raved and demanded she read a go. Apparently it was a hit because Molly had become engrossed within its pages.

"Good book then?" He asked.

Molly didn't answer. She just kept in reading, her eyes busy scanning the pages behind her thick glasses, while the fingers of one hand played over her lips as a smile played across them.

"Molly?"

Still no response. Instead she flipped yet another page and kept right on reading. Irritated by her blatant snub, Sherlock groused to himself. What was going on!? Where were the days when Molly paid _him_ and _he_ alone her undivided attention? It was enough to set him into a flipped another page, while Sherlock continued to silently suffer, his interest in his own book past.

Days later, and Molly had spent each free moment at work or home with her nose buried deep into her novel. Sighing every so often, and more and more often than not her eyes showing the tell tale signs of arousal. Arousal from a book? That offended his as well. It wasn't as though Molly and he had any challenges in that department. In fact, he'd be so bold as to say that they were two very evenly matched sexual partners. But, could it be that Molly's taste where changing? He then researched the books and was saddened to learn that six hundred pages were far from sufficient enough to tell the tale. In fact there were seven more books had been required to tell the story of Claire, a history tossed nurse and Jaime, her passionate second husband. Sherlock could see where Molly could empathize with the nurse, but did she have to be so caught up in the tale of the woman and the Blasted Outlander?

Or, could she really now be dreaming of a Scotsman rather than a Consultant? Well if it was a Scotsman she wanted, Sherlock would try to oblige her deepest, unspoken wishes.

* * *

When Molly got home that evening, the last thing she expected to find in the flat was Sherlock dressed in a kilt, surrounded by the glow of six dozen candles while the sounds of bagpipes and drums filled air around him. "Sherlock..." Molly questioned and he spun towards her.

"Ah, hello there 'lass. I'm so glad that ye have returned home to me finally." He spoke in a heavy perfect Scottish accent as he stormed over to her and pulled her into his arms, tight against his chest. "T'was taking ye near forever to come back to me."

"Sherlock?!" Confusion spun over her mind. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Hush now." He softly sang. Well, spoke, but to Molly's ears the lilt in his voice was as beautiful as any music she'd ever heard. "Ye need not be scairt of me my dear. Nor anyone else, so long as I, Jamie Fraiser am here." Fingers began trailing up her neck, tickling around her ears, before working to pull at the bun she'd worn to work today.

Suddenly what he was doing clicked in Molly's head. Sherlock was trying to role play. Her Sherlock. He was doing this 'act' for her. That was... It was incredibly sweet. Therefore, it only made sense that she burst into a huge fit of giggles.

"Molly?" He asked, all traces of the accent removed. "What happened? Did I get it wrong? Dammit, I practiced!" The confession only served to make her giggle louder, sending her bending over in laughter, tears brimming in her eyes. Sherlock led her to a chair, settling her down into it before she fell before he stomped over to the iPod and shut off the music.

"Oh, now don't be like that!" Molly giggled. "That really was so... Sweet of you Sherlock!" The shaking laugh returning as he flung himself down on the sofa, pouting and crossing his arms across his chest. For some reason, Molly started laughing again.

"What!?" He thundered, sending her a dark look.

"You clearly don't have much experience wearing a kilt, do you?" Her grin was blinding in its amusement.

"Of course not! I got it simply to please you. Not that _that_ worked." He roared, but his curiosity got to him. "What gave it away?"

"The way you are sitting, darling." Molly stood and walked to him, settling herself onto his lap."I can see your lovely tight, white pants. You haven't learned that must sit with your knees together. Unless you are putting on a little show for me." Blushing, he murmured an embarrassed 'oh', before closing his legs and resuming his pouting, looking everywhere but at her.

"Sherlock, this is a wonderful surprise, you just caught me off guard. I never imagined I'd come home to you doing something like this for me. I'm sorry if I'm not living up to my part of the deal."

"I don't often do things for your benefit alone, but I wanted to try." Sherlock admitted. "You've been so consumed by the Fraiser man of late, that I wanted to remind you that I'm here to help you with any sexual needs you have, you don't have to pine after some fictional literary hero."

Molly soothed a hand through his hair, gently tilting his face till he gave in and looked at her. "Do you know what I like so about the Outlander series, Sherlock?"

"Not a clue." He huffed. "Romance novels make little sense to me. What could two fictional characters romance mean to a person? It's idiotic, really."

"I'm just going to pretend you never said that." She narrowed her eyes. " I like the series because it's about a fairly modern woman with a passable amount of medical knowledge put into extraordinary, ridiculous, yes, I know. I mean time traveling? Really? But it's under those strange circumstances, where she meets Jamie. Oh and Jamie, let me tell you about Jamie Frasier. Well for one thing he's tall. His hair, while more red it's described as almost multicolored thanks to all the colors in contained and it is all in these wild curls." Molly's hands twirled themselves into his own curls." His eyes are slanted and dark blue above his high cheekbones and strong chin."

Her fingers now trailed along Sherlock's own similar features.

"As for the rest of him, he's proportionally muscular to his leaning frame, I'll admit that's rather appealing but his body has scars. Lots of scars after all, he's an extremely intelligent man but with a proud streak that can get him and his companions into trouble, stubborn as a mule but who'd do anything for those he loves and trust, not matter the personal cost. Sound like anyone you know?"

He studied her closely. "You like him so much because he reminds you of... Me?"

Molly leaned in and kissed him, soundly and lingering close. "Mmhmm."

"So you don't prefer him to me?" He clarified clearly embarrassed to ask her.

"No you daft fool!" Molly peppered kisses over his face." I love you, and I want only you. You are perfectly exceptional and wonderful and perfect just as you are. Why would I want an imaginary man when I have you? And you are exceptional, sir.

In fact, one day I imagine that someone will write all about your adventures with you as a handsomely Fatally-flawed character and people everywhere will swoon over you and your beautiful mind and equally gorgeous bum." She giggled again. "Although, for some reason I keep imagining that they'll make John your love interest, as much as people do these days."

"I hope I am not simply remembered for my adventures with John." He huffed.

"Oh you wish to be remembered for the deerstalker? Perhaps your groundbreaking work on Tobacco ash?" Hands raising to stroke her sides sensually before moving his fingers he retaliated.

"That's enough of you, missy!" He assaulted her rib cage with his nimble fingers, causing her the thrash in his arms. "I may not be Jamie Frasier, but I'll not be putting up with and sass from the likes of you"

Oh the accent was back. Molly smiled up at him. "And just what have you in mind then!" Sherlock lifted her onto his shoulder, carrying her as easily even as she wiggled.

"Oh I'll show you. I have a lesson to teach ye, just you wait. After all, did you know Sherlock is a Scottish name?"

"No, it not!" Molly shrieked as she was tossed into the bed "And I have a lesson to teach you as well!" Her eyes shown bright and mischievously.

"And what could that be, Molly Mine?" He said climbing slowly up the bed over her.

"What you should wear under that kilt of yours." Sherlock's lips and teeth were on Molly's ears, nibbling along the outer shell. Molly allowed a low moan to escape her as her eyes dropped shut from his attentions.

After a moment he pulled back just enough to whisper to her, "and just what would that be, m'dear?"

Swiftly flipping them, Molly pinned him below her and then with her fingers reaching slowly down him, seeking the edge of the kilt she answered. "Lipstick."

* * *

Note: Clearly I own nothing, just borrowing for entertainment form Moffit,Gatiss and an extra shout out to Diana Gabaldon. Enjoy!


	8. Badly Done

"Badly done, Sherlock. Badly done!" She charged at him from the crowded ball room. Her yellow silk ball dress accented in black shown swished in the faint candleIt as she charged forward and the curls balanced elegantly on one shoulder bounced with each stamp of her skippered foot. Of course it took her no time at all for her to find him. It never did. She, it seemed was the person who knew him best. Knew each of his hiding spots and had no qualms about going there to find him, using her family ties to gain entrance and access wherever she needed to to call him on the carpet for his reprehensible behavior.

It had been a long while since he had behaved so badly. And truth be told he had no reason to be in such a foul mood. It had, he decided nothing to do with his recent successes in the field of deduction but more with those around him becoming and more committing acts of Matrimony all about him.

His own brother heralded it all in when he had married the lovely, remarkable Anthea, but that association brought the brides younger half sister into Sherlock's own world. Molly Hooper had been little more than a child when they'd met but Sherlock had been quick to discover that she too possessed a unique, remarkable mind. The years past and she grew out of her first interest in mister Holmes the younger after the eldest Holmes welcomed two robust boys within three years. At the second joyous christening, Sherlock had happily announced that he planned to become a confirmed bachelor. After all his work needed him more than his family to carry on the but her pursuit had ended and the two had grown closer in the years.

But recently... Oh their relationship seemed to have altered. It seemed that somewhere along the line he had begun to hold her and her good graces in the highest of esteems. In short, little Molly Hooper had begun to matter the most to him. A situation he knew would be short lived for she was now a sought after debutante this season. A fact that aggravated in to no end. She'd marry some fool who couldn't possibly understand her worth. They'd marry and he'd lose her forever in his life. That one glaring fact was what had set him off on his tirade. His own cousin Tom had become obviously besotted with her and Molly... Well she had approved.

Seeing the two of them, casting flirtatious smiles while dancing had been hard enough to bear. Hearing their ridiculous conversations had been too too much and without thinking he'd lashed out. Now as she barreled toward him it was time to pay his piper. "You! How dare you betray the love of your friends like that! He trusted you!"

"Molly-"

"Mary Morstan is a good, fine woman! She would make John Watson the happiest of men, but you persuaded him to end their engagement, no don't bother to deny it. The man would do anything if you insisted. Anything! And you misused that power Sherlock Holmes! How dare you!" Her face was ripe with anger and he worried for a moment that she might in fact strike him.

"She is not who she claims to be!" He roared as if that justified his behavior.

"But you didn't have to share that information with every bloody citizen in the county right in the middle of your parents anniversary dinner!" She hissed. "I do not know her secret, but whatever or whomever it is she is running from she still deserved your discretion.

"The man I thought you were would have never put a lady in danger simply to show off and on top of that you made the man whose repeatedly both risked his life and saved your life as often as Doctor Watson look the fool! Badly done!"

Sherlock looked at her as chastised as he felt."You are right, Molly Hooper forgive me."

"No!" She shook her head . "An apology fixes nothing that you've done. And it's not I that deserves to hear you say your words of penance."

"But I have hurt you too by my actions." He tried to justify.

"I do not count." She answered with a steady look of acceptance at her own answer. "Make it right Sherlock. For their sakes." And then the woman spun and hurried back to the ball room and back to the people with whom he felt so disconnected from. She did however stop and the door way and look back at him in the shadows. Unlike their normal departures from one another, Molly Hooper offered him no smile this time. Nor did he deserve one.

He had let her down. He'd let them all down. But he could, and would make this right.


	9. Keeping it Real

"Well that's that then." Molly sighed. "Yet another one of London's psychological manipulator has been removed from the general public, all thanks to you Sherlock."

"And to you as well Molly. You did brilliantly as the part of my wife worried about the spark having gone out. Made it so easy for him to hypnotize you."

"Really? That's uh...!good I think?" She smiled. "Oh his face though when he realized that you weren't under his control. And therefore wouldn't be giving you access to 'our' bank accounts It was one I'll not soon forget." She giggled. "Oh, right. Speaking of forgetting, i don't want to forget to give this back to you..." Molly tried to wiggled off the ring set that had adorned her left hand for nearly a month. It main ring was a beautiful emerald cut diamond with two gorgeous tanzanite stones on either side that always put her to mind of Sherlock's eyes while the wedding band was a thin pattern of tiny emerald cut diamonds and chips of same tanzanite. The detective had given her them for use during their sessions. "Hold on, its stuck. Odd it's usually so easy to get off!"

She continued to try and twist and pull without gaining any ground. "Molly, why don't you just hold on to them. It's not like there is a rush. After all I did purchase them for you after all." Then he froze, as if he had not meant to tell her that.

She stilled and looked up at him. "You bought me the rings? Like specifically for me? Why did you do a thing like that?"

"I... Well you know, we needed rings for the case."

"Yes, I get that but why did you pick these one for me?"

"Because I knew it would suit you." He motioned at her. "The stones are flat, and the brackets smooth enough to be worn under the gloves at work. Plus the color and style suited you. Nothing plain would ever look right, you're a fan of color and I just knew that was made for you when I saw it." Sherlock looked into her flabbergasted face. "I've done something wrong, haven't I? Forgive me... I didn't think. But do please keep it. It is yours all. You deserve it Molly Hooper."

"I can't... I can't keep it." She returned to pulling at the ring, almost frantically. He tensed up watching her actions.

"Then feel free to her rid of it in any manner you choose. I refuse to take it back

Pushing past her. He walked away but she ran after him, grabbing his hand. "Wait! Sherlock, wait." He stopped but kept his back to her. "You could have asked anyone to be your spouse. Why did you choose me?"

"Because you said once that if I ever needed you that I could have you." He said it in such a way that the words could have sounded cold and logically but the look in his eyes glowed with an inner fire, a turmoil that he refused to allow to the surface. "I'm a fool Molly. I shouldn't have assumed that after all I've done that you'd still feel the same."

"Now hold on, you bought me a freaking engagement ring Sherlock! You're going to have to give me a moment it all. Normally when a woman has one of those purchased for her, especially with so much thought behind it then it's because the man loves her. And well since that's clearly not the case here it's just a big shock." Sherlock moved to face her.

"And so what if it was?" He questioned. "Would you keep it then?

"If it was what? Why would I keep it!?"

"I don't know. To do whatever you want with it. Sell it and go to Bora Bora. Keep it in your jewelry box and wear it on special occasions. Wear it every damn day and show the whole rest of the world that you are the one who matters the most to me. Whatever you think is best." He snapped.

"You are insane!" She got right up next to him. "You honestly think that I'm supposed to just wear a ring from you, a ring that you want everyone to know came from you and just be what? What would I be?"

"My wife, obviously!" He snarled at her, "the woman I love who is do anything for. The person you already are just with official titles."

"You want to marry me?" She asked extremely doubtfully.

"Not particularly." He moaned. "The thought of going through a ceremony and a reception isn't on the top of my most wanted to list."

"Then what the hell."

"But I do want to me married to you. I want you to be my wife, my real wife. I want all those things that I said with Dr. Witt about good days and bad days and okay days. I want you. I want you, Molly.

"I want to hold your hand and feel you playing with my hair while we watch Telly. And you nagging me to out the mugs in the sink. I want you singing off key in Baker Street's shower in the morning and reading quietly by the fire at night while I play the violin. I want to fight over scientific discoveries as much as where to order dinner from.

And my god, I want to kiss you. Every moment I'm with you I ache to hold you close to me. When I'm in my bed or yours I wonder just how it feel to be with sleeping with you and making love to you-"

He has to stop then because he was being kissed. Hotly and thoroughly snagged by Molly Hooper and it was even more amazing than he had ever imagined.

"You honestly want to be married to me? Well and truly married?" She asked after she stopped kissing him.

"Yes." He pressed his lips and held them to her forehead. "Will you be my wife? Will you share your life with a fool like me? Complete with the crimes, the cat, and the experiments in the fridge?"

"Can we have just a little wedding?"

"If we must." He sighed sadly. "Damn it."

"What?" Molly looked up concerned.

"Our first argument as a couple and I lost." He pouted.

"Never fear, my husband-to-be." She kissed his cheek. "I'm absolutely positive that it is not our last."


	10. Somebody else

I don't want to feel this way

Song fic: I can't hear 'I don't wanna love somebody else' by A Great Big World and not see season 3 sherlolly all over it. That deceptively simple phrase... And because of this, I wrote is a nice g rated angst fic. It only took me 18 months too.

Dinner was going fine. It was. The food, their service, the wine and the company was all wonderful. Tom was laughing and telling her a story about a client that held worked with that day with his arms waving animatedly and the imitation he gave of this Mr Price, a Ninety-five year old pensioner who was making funny vines with his friends in their old age. Molly was smiling as she ate her fish and drank her wine over the candleIt dinner listening to his story, quite content. At least she was until the thought struck her seemingly out of no where.

God, I wish I loved him.

It was so easy to pretend that she did. Tom had swept into her life when she was at her lowest point in the two years Sherlock was dead. They'd met at a pub and he's invited her to the cinema the following Friday. And in all the Friday's that followed they were together. Doing. Going. Being together.

It was like Molly had inserted herself as part of his life and clicked right into place. Like a puzzle of a grander picture, they fit and it seemed like it was all coming together. Soon his world was hers as well and life finally made sense. To Molly, it felt like the stars were finally in her favor.

Except for the fact that while she liked Tom it wasn't love. Not the type that counted at least? How could she love him when her heart who already belonged to a dead man. A dead man who had showed up bout of the blue in her locker room right before she came to dinner tonight for the first time in two years.

"Molly, you okay?" Tom asked holding her hand concern written on his face. _He's such a great guy,_ she thought forlornly.

"I'm fine! Fine!" Molly spoke to fast. "Just something on my mind that came up last minute at work. It's fine." She waved her head dismissively.

"If you're sure." Tom murmured unconvinced.

Molly smiled half-heartedly. She was anything but.

•••••••••••••••¥•••••••••••••••

The chance was there. Right in front of him.

Molly Hooper had stood a breath away, listing the merits of her fiancé which only served to amplify his already painfully obvious wrongness that Molly couldn't seem to see. He could have easily pointed them out to her and yet he hadn't. When had that tactic ever worked in his favor?

Besides, she looked settled. The fact that this Molly in front of him wasn't a stuttering mess spoke volumes to her growth in his absence. How could he rob her of the confidence she'd gained? No, he'd ignore his own desires, just this once and do the honorable thing.

Yes, the chance had been there, and he had tried to do the right thing and tell her he hoped she'd be very happy and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. As close to those lips be long for as he dared before he turned to leave her once more.

As he walked away he went to his mind palace and decided to bury those longings, the needs. With practice he would forget that they'd even existed in the first place. If Molly could move on then surely he could too.

It took less than a week and meeting Tom in the flesh for him to realize just how big of an error he'd made. Tom was, if Sherlock were honest with himself, the worst possible option she could have chosen. Why was an intelligent woman like Molly Hooper unable to see that her fiancé was at best a cheap knock off of Sherlock Holmes? Out of the millions of options she picked someone he could have used as a body double. Why?

 _Because she still loves you_! Beneath his floorboards of his mind palace his buried self admission of feeling shook as the versions of a happy couple shouted, screamed, demanding their freedom. _Do something! Tell her. Try! Just tell her what you want and you'll see. Don't give up on her. Fight man, man for her._

 **No. No.** She made her choice, Sherlock reminded himself. She had made the choice long before he had returned and there was nothing he was going to do about it. There was to be no happy ending for him, that was never an option for a man such as he. Molly hooper however had her chance and he would not take that from her.

The intervening months were a constant struggle to be around her. Beautiful, confident and sure as she was... And clearly she still cared for him. True, the nature of her showing it came from her awareness and desire to watch out for him. But the confirmation was all that his traitorous mind seemed to need to torture him. Sherlock knew about her secretive phone calls after all John declared him (him?) best man. The thought that she seemed more invested in his participation in he Watson-Morstan nuptials than her own shook him.

But no. He wouldn't even allow himself to hope. It was too dangerous to allow such a thing to live.

•••••••••••••••¥•••••••••••••••

A distraction... He needed a distraction. Each time he closed his eyes a certain pair of brown eyes glowed at him. A vision of her smiling with pride, biting her lip in such a way that he was reminded of the way his mother looked at his father when he had done something particularly endearing... It was the look Molly have him and the association made it nearly unbearable to make the tender comparison.

And now, standing here in the middle of the dance floor as Mary and John rapped Their arms around each other an their minds around the news of their conception he needed a distraction most of all. Something to help him weather the turbulent thoughts and... _ugh_ feelings he was experiencing.

Searching the crowd she found Janine happily dancing with a newly single wedding guest. Her goal of finding a partner to have a fling with nearly met. And then he decided to chance it.

 _Molly_...

Molly who had moved back to Tom and was happily moving. A smile nearly permanently fixed on her face and her teeth softly resting on that lip as she looked at her fiancé. As she should, his mind answered, as she should.

Suddenly his desire to find a person to distract him vanished leaving a new old familiar longing in its place. Alone was what he wanted. What protected him. He had wanted to be alone and now he was. Quietly he went for his coat and slipped out while the song still played.

No one noticed his departure. No one came after him.

He was free. But this freedom felt nothing but oppressing.

•••••••••••••••¥•••••••••••••••

There was a moment right there during the best mans speech when Molly realized fully that she's been trying to make Tom into someone he could never be. In one moment of absolute clarity and an idiotic attempt at solving a crime that Sherlock Holmes himself hadn't solved it hit her. She couldn't marry him.

Seeing the two of them, virtually side by side...Hearing Sherlock's rare words of affection for his best friend and saving a life... Feeling the way her heart burst with joy when John hugged his and Mary cried ... She was just so moved by and for him. Molly knew she had done nothing to earn it but she was so proud of him. God but he was fantastic!

After the three main players had bolted from the reception the party had moved outside to the garden and Tom was chatting with some guy about... Who knew really. But she sat on a bench beside Mrs. Hudson who was rambling on and on about her own wedding, something about a friend making a fuss, and all Molly could think about is how she was going to end it with the man she was engaged to marry. This isn't what she wanted. She wanted to have her happily ever after. She wanted Tom to be the greatest thing in her life... but he wasn't. He never could be.

Just then Tom looked over at her across the garden and smiled so brightly that her heart squeezed... Not in affection but in guilt. Such a good man. Steady, reliable and charming man. Tomorrow. She'd tell him tomorrow. But for now, for now she'd enjoy being with him for one more night. Wouldn't do to leave a wedding early anyway.

Molly excused herself from Mrs Hudson and smiled at him as she walked to him, wishing all the way that she could love him rather than Sherlock.

I'd love to know your thoughts. Want more song fics? Loathe them? Help a girl out.


	11. That Awkward moment

That awkward moment

Day 5 of Sherlollyweek2016 and I choose teenlock. I pray any OOC-ness will be excused by the exuberance of youth. As such this is teen. Some mild language.

Being in love with one of your best friends is its own special kind of hell. Particularly, when you know they do not feel the same way for you.

Molly Hooper had begun falling in love with Sherlock Holmes ever since she'd heard his deep voice enter the room before him for years before. It was infatuation from the moment she saw his tall, gangly form enter immediately behind the full voice. The curls, the hair... The devilish grin he gave her as he slid into the table beside her. She was a goner.

He, however, did not find her irresistible. That wasn't exactly a shock to her. In truth she wasn't sought after then by anyone. It wasn't easy to catch a guys attention when you were short, brace-faced, had huge glasses and most woefully of all: flat chested. To her shock however the gorgeous, popular prick was rather keen on being her friend because she, in his opinion was one of only five or six people with enough brain cells to communicate reasonably:therefore they were to be friends. Good friends. Friends who studied, debated and watched each other's back.

And yes, there'd been times over the years when perhaps they skirted the line of being a bit more than friends. Times when it seemed the possibility between of them was almost imminent. Flirting would happen over science experiments and significant glances would follow hard days were occasionally shares but nothing definitive ever happened. In short it was just enough to make Molly Hooper ever get over her crush on him.

It wasn't until the Valentine's Day dance that final year of school. For the past term Sherlock had been seeing Janine. A beautiful, fun vivacious friend that had blown into their lives along with his mate John's girlfriend Mary the summer before. Truth be told the two of them made a good couple. A couple that you saw and thought just made sense with their matching long limbs and good looks.

Molly wished that she could hate her. View her as some sort of rival yet she just couldn't. Janine was fun and surprisingly kind. Her vivacious personality gave her an uncanny knack for making Sherlock behave and not be such an ass to , much as she wished she could hate her for holding Sherlock's affection, she instead found comfort in the fact that he was at least dating someone who was good for him.

In the mean time Molly was currently single. A fact that truly didn't bother her all that much, because it's not like she was lonely, or that she didn't have offers... She'd hated. Had a boyfriend or two. But they never seemed to last even a month. Most of the offers she got were from guys that she knew better than to waste time on. There was more to life than fumbling boys who only wanted to get into her knickers. Besides its not like she was 35 and single with only a cat! She was 17 and in no rush.

But the holiday approached, and one day nearly a week before the schools dance she was approached by Victor Trevor, a guy she knew more through Sherlock than not. "So... Molly..." He scratched his chin, a nervous habit of his "Would you...ah... You want to go to the dance with me?" Victor rushed out.

Molly stared over at him. Her mind immediately _No!_ And her mouth opened to answer immediately, but unfortunately "sure sounds great" was the answer that came out. Oh Crap.

"Great! I'll pick you up at 7, alright? We'll have a great time, I know it. Been wanting to ask you out for a while now." Victor smiled his boyishly charmingly grin at her before he moved back down the hall toward. Molly watched as he made his way over to a waiting Sherlock. When Victor told the 'good news' Sherlock clapped his friend on the back in a show of congratulations... But as Victor wept walking behind he looked to her and gave Molly an unreadable look. _What was that about?_ She wondered. _Oh who knew with Sherlock._

Victor came, dressed nicely min a new suit to her house precisely on time. When Molly came down the stairs to meet him he took one look at her before nearly dropping her corsage telling her how beautiful she looked. After mum took an embarrassing amount of photos she was escorted into Victors car before the two took off to grab dinner at Angelo's. The pizza they shared was good and Victor was his amusing self after they sat and talked a bit about school work and movies. Molly found herself relaxing. It was starting to feel less like a date and more like being with a friend. Then however, he got a strange look on his face. Molly was in the middle of discussing the book they were reading for a test the following week when she realized that Victor was no longer listening or even looking at her. "Victor? Is everything alright?"

"What? Yeah I'm fine. No go ahead, You can have it." He spoke, distracted.

"What is going on?" Victor was saved from answering by some ineffectually covered giggles. Glancing over her shoulder Molly found the table behind them filled with the four of their so called 'friends'.

"Hello, love-birds! Having a good time?" Janine called out. Mary and John giggled along with her while Sherlock sat by his girlfriends side seemingly unamused as he looked at the table where Victor and Molly sat.

Spinning round to Victor she hissed. "Did you tell them where you were bringing me?"

"No! Swear to God, Molls. I didn't say a word."

"Then how..." Molly looked over her shoulder keenly aware that Sherlock still watched them. "Sherlock."

"Ohy, come join us!" John called and Victor smiled a half smile. "They're not going to leave us alone. Might as well join them." Then he hopped up dragging a chair for himself and leaving Molly to do the same (albeit wobbly in heels and her dress). The rest of dinner went well. Laughing and jokes although Sherlock was still more sullen then normal. After they had finished Mary and Janine dragged Molly to the ladies ( as per tradition! Mary giggled) where they reapplied lip gloss and grilled Molly.

"So Victor finally got the nerve to ask you out eh? You two make such a cute couple!" Janine smiled, Molly could see that she actually meant it, the brat.

Mary smiled at her as well. "That boy has been besotted with you for forever Molly. And as lovely as you look tonight it's no wonder why!"

Answering with a small smile the three headed back out to their waiting dates. Janine continued to walk forward with Mary and John continued showing something to Victor. Following behind Molly was stopped by Sherlock who gently grabbed her arm holding her behind "Everything going well?" He asked quietly.

Startled she looked up at him (something that she wasn't able to do to her own date she half noticed) "It's going alright, I think."

"Good. Good." Something in his expression relaxed but he still was nervous she could tell. "You look... Well Molly."

"Thanks. I am."

"I mean the dress and the hair." Sherlock motioned to her and her curled hair and shorter pink dress. "It suits you."

"Thanks, Sherlock." Molly chanced a smile, a smile that he answered that lingered just a bit too long as it made her heart flutter deep in her chest.

"You two coming?" Victor had rounded back popping his head into the resturant.

"Right. Just making sure my girl here is treating you as a beautiful man like you deserves to be treated. She's keeping her hands to herself, isn't she?" Sherlock teased, moving his arm to drape her cross her shoulders as he led her to the door and her waiting date.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The music thundered and they danced in the colliding shimmering lights to the beat. The girls laughed and sang along half singing lyrics and having a truly fun time. John dragged Sherlock and Victor just off the the side of the dance floor where they sort of bobbed along but were able to talk too while still claiming to participate. Eventually, thirst over took them and they went to the refreshment table downing punch and finally taking a break to speak to the guys.

It was then that an announcement was made for the student council members to prepare for the naming of this years Heart Court. As members Janine, Mary and John went off to go preform their duties leaving the other three together. Victor spoke to them about the football teams upcoming matches but soon picked up on how little Sherlock and Molly knew nor cared all that much about the subject. As soon as he saw Greg walk by Victor quickly made excuses before darting tin and follow his captain eager for his attention and to input his thoughts about the coming game.

"You know, I almost feel sorry for Gilbert, Vic will talk his ear off for at least ten minutes." Sherlock sighed, shifting his weight and shoving his hands into his trouser pockets.

"And poor you left with only I to converse with."

"Is that bad? Do you want me to go somewhere else?"

"No! No that's fine by me." Molly said, nervously twirling a curl around two fingers.

Neither said anything more preferring to stand awkwardly side by side. Molly's toe tapped again, part in time to the music and part due to her nervousness. Which was foolish, this was her friend!

"Well, come on then." He huffed, holding out his hand.

"What are you doing?" She asked, looking at him like he's suddenly spouted a second head.

"If you insist on dancing beside me, you might as well dance with me." He spoke calmly pushing his hand toward her once more. She still looked the proffered hand hesitantly. " Come on, Hooper. What's the harm in two friends dancing?" He reached out and grabbed her pulling her nearer but still a safe distance away as he began doing a single side step to the 80's song the dj was playing. "Good. Now this is the part where you move to, I think you'll remember."

"Sherlock I'm not sure that I.. That we..." Oh screw it. How many times in her life did she think she would have the opportunity to dance with him? Molly relaxed and joined him dancing. Imagine that. She, mousey Molly dancing with Sherlock Holmes of all people. Sherlock, who was showing himself to be a shockingly good dancer as he spun her out and pulled her back in.

"See? No harm is being done to you." Molly laughed and relaxed a bit more to 'take on me'.

"You were right! Besides its not like it was a slower song." She allowed as it finished trying to put a bit more space between them now that it's over. The lighting changed right then as a slower song began its first strains. "Like this.

Molly stepped back burger but Sherlock surprised her once more by pulling her in, even closer than before and placed a hand in her waist. As short as she was, Molly's own hand rested on his bicep rather than shoulder. Close enough to his chest to feel his heart pounding a steady fast tattoo.

All the more captivating and confusing was his expression. Soft, content and happier than she could honestly recall ever seeing. The dim lights brought out the green in his eyes and Molly couldn't help but smile as she smelled an unfamiliar scent waft off of him. "What?" He asked watching her.

Blushing, Molly looked away. "Oh, nothing. I was just trying to place that new cologne you see wearing."

"Ah, yes. The cologne. Do you like it?"

"No, not particularly to be honest!" Molly chuckled. "Gift from Janine, I gather?"

"Very good Molly, you are remembering your deductive skills!" How pleased he was by that.

"How could I ever forget those lessons humm, Sherlock?" She teased.

"Mmhmm." Sherlock mumbled. "You're wearing a different scent too, I can't help but notice. This one is more bright and floral. Not at all like the raspberry one you tend to favor for school."

"Is it bad?" Molly asked, feeling self-conscious, even though she reminded herself that his option really shouldn't matter.

"No." He coughed. "It's not bad at all. It just makes you seem different tonight." Sherlock's thumb had begun circling her back and his fingers glided around. It reminded her of the nervous habit he had, almost like his fingers wished they were playing a violin. The sensation however gave her chills and she felt her skin go all tingly as a result.

"Is different bad?" She whispered looking up at him. No answer was said though because they were no longer alone. "Found this one trying to talk Greg's ear off. Brought him back to Molly so Greg could finally ask Sally Donovan for a dance. He's been dying to for ages now that he and Anne are on another off moment." Mary announced, giving Sherlock a pointed look. Sherlock for his part was actIng completely unapologetically for having been interrupted dancing with Molly. Rather than jumping away from Molly (as she had tried to do to him) he simply brought her captured hand to his lips before proclaiming loudly, "thank you for the dance, fair maiden. It was my honor to escort you on the floor when your own gallant knight left you alone in his pursuit of sport. "

His antics eased the tension of the group, who laughed (well not Molly, as she had only blushed furiously.) After the hand kiss, he released Molly, and she found herself suddenly in Victors arms, now continuing the slow dance. The position and movements wasn't as elegant as her previous partners was, but it helped her calm her head and Molly was grateful.

From over Victors shoulder she smiled as she watched Sherlock do a mock court bow to his girlfriend who laughed again at him curtsying in mock manners. If Janine was upset she didn't say a thing merely smiled as she pulled Sherlock in for a dance, a much closer hold with both her arms draped around his neck and his around her waist. She said something low, and private to him that made Sherlock laugh loudly. "Oh Molly," he looked straight at Janine, "I love you."

Molly had looked up at the call of her name and had seen the whole thing play out. Victor froze, mid rock and looked up at his friend. From the side John could be heard saying "oh, shit" before Mary stamped her heel in his instep to stop him from saying more.

It was only a span of a breath before Sherlock was blinking and speaking. "Janine. Janine! Right because you are Janine. And Molly is... Molly is there and she's not you and it's you I..."

"Sherlock!" Janine laughed out in an only slight chocking manner, was she amused... at least she seemed to be. She certainly didn't push him aware as he looked to expected her to do.

"Oh my God!" Was Mary's input into the situation. While Molly could only say 'oh god' Worse however was Victor who said absolutely nothing, and looked like he'd just been made the biggest fool of, and that made something in Molly snap. "Sherlock, what the hell? Is your mind trying to do one to many things at once? Because your slipping." Badly.

Shaking his head to clear it he groaned. "God it must be this music. It's lowering my bloody IQ!" Bending his head he balanced his forehead on his girlfriends and slowly, slowly the couples began to breath and move again swaying to the final chorus of the song pounded from the speakers.

Victor turned Molly away from the other couples and softly chuckled, "well that was strange. Particularly of him."

"Yeah... Yeah it was. Weird. It's been a weird night though."

"I don't know. It's been pretty great being with you." The boy blushed.

"Oh, um... Thanks. I was a bit worried about saying yes you know, to coming. But you've been, I mean it's been-"

"Molly, I love you." Victor rushed out.

Well that was unexpected. Therefore she did the only thing she knew to do. Molly laughed a small panicky giggle. "That's funny, Victor."

"It's not-"

"Would you mind excusing me? I need to pop to the loo. Be back before you know it." As calmly as she could, Molly pulled away and headed toward the loo in what she hoped was a normal pace. Hoping that no one could see how nauseated she was.

This whole night had been unfair. Why did this happen to her? Sherlock was with Janine. She could accept that. Hell, she could be happy for them even! But then the bastard had to go and act like he had feelings for her to and THAT WASN'T FAIR.

 _Not just feelings he told you he loved you. He loves you! Sherlock Holmes loves you!_

But he didn't really. He had said it to Janine. Not her. He meant it's her that he loves. Not you. A simple slip of the tongue; an accident and nothing more. Ignore the looks, the dance the feeling of his skilled fingers soothing her. An accident. _Stop it!_

It wasn't real. It couldn't be. But if it was...

Groaning Molly reached the sink, turning the cool water in and pouring it over her hands and patting her burning cheeks. "Oh God, what am I going to do now?"

Yes, beingin love with one of your best friends was its own special kind of hell. But realizing that he may in fact love you too but not enough to actually be with you was worse.

Much, much worse.


	12. Alpha

_Every so often I'll write a chat on Tumblr. This little chat was inspired by Setlock (if your avoiding it like the Plauge read no more. If your mildly interested read on. It truly is just a bit of crack based on one of the more publicly filmed scesnes) if you are still reading then please enjoy this take on what we saw_

Alpha

Sherlock: (pulls on leash)Come on then you mongrel

John: Sherlock, do I even want to know whose dog you have stolen?

Sherlock: I have not stolen it! It's Molly's blood hound, Tom the meat-daggers dog. He had to get rid of him when he moved out with Molly so she's kept the breast. Meet Toby two, and my current flat mate while Molly is out of town for a conference. Figured he could help tracking stolen property but so far this mutt whose is supposed to be helping me but instead he just keeps scenting out litter bins.

John: (confused) I thought Toby was a cat?

Mary: Alright your turn to wear the torture devise known as a baby carrier. (Hands John the carrier while holding baby in arm) my backs had it after an hour in that 's grown so much lately. We need to readjust the straps for us but she's content so I suppose that's all that matters.(Sees dog) whose this?

Sherlock: Mary meet Molly's awful unreliable, willful pet Toby. Toby is supposed to be assisting me.(Toby pulls more) but... He's... Not... Helping.

Mary: Give me the leash.

Sherlock: he's terribly strong. I don't think- (sees Mary eyeing him) okay fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. And your telling Molly if he gets lost.

Mary: (softly)Ah, so your Molly's good lad, is that right. Do you miss Molly? Eh boy. She'll be home to you soon.( casting a look up) To both of you. I know you miss her fiercely. Yeah?( scratches dogs chin) Okay ready now? Toby sit.(Toby sits, immediately.) Well done! What is he supposed to be looking for?(Sherlock automatically hands cloth sample over) Find it, boy? Good! Let's go.

Mary walks and John and Sherlock look to one another before following.

Sherlock: How did she make him do that?

John: No idea.( he smiles at her)

Mary: It's a bit simple really. I remind him of who was in charge.

Sherlock: But I'm the one in charge. I am the Alpha, obviously. (Clearly offended by the suggestion that he's not)

John: (amused.)No. No mate looks like you are not. And Clearly this little one agrees.(John smiled at his cooing baby as he follows Mary with Sherlock grumbling by his side.)

like what you read? Comments are love! Also follow me on Tumblr for more.


	13. Holiday, Far Away

Holiday, far away

A long owed parentlock Drabble for sweet Day. The idea has been there since my birthday, I finally got a chance to sit and get it out! Hurrah!

"Girls! Your father's calling. Come in here please." Molly Hooper-Holmes called to her three daughters who were busy assembling a whimsical 3000 piece jigsaw puzzle of kittens in different costumes. The three stopped their light squabbling over which piece fit where to then begin fighting over who got to make their way through the door first to get into the kitchen of the house they'd rented for the month in the French country side.

Of course, Sherlock being the famous consulting Detective that he was, never was one to have a set schedule. Let alone

be able to schedule holiday time... Oh sure, he always said he would say no, but invariably, always always a matter of national security or a child in danger (Molly would always insist he must, although it was never to hard to convince him when there was a child in danger). And sure enough, all they had planned and dreamed of doing together as a family came to a halt just one day before the trip when an all too important case to refuse came up.

Rather then make the girls lose the trip Molly had rallied them into making it a 'just us girls holiday' and then fought to make the best damn girls holiday ever had with lots of activists with each of the girls interests combined. They'd been horse back riding to please their athletic eldest Lily, a night at the local theater to see a musical for Violet their dramatic minded middle child and trip to a weavers to learn a new craft for little miss Rosie the hand-crafting diva of the family. All in all it was going well.

And then the weather turned for the worse. Endless rain seemed to pour from the sky, making trips out impossible and completely undesirable. Instead the Hooper-Holmes ladies kept themselves occupied by playing games and watching positively 'ancient' as Violet decreed movies from the 1980's and 90's. It also forced Molly to become rather creative meals from the meager pantry "Mummy- I don't think Ramon noodles are supposed to be used in pasta salad." To which Molly assured her that Ramon noodles could be used in anything. _Even bricks_ , she privately allowed eyeing the ancient 'pasta'. And of course long stories about their fathers adventures and their romantic whirlwind relationship. "Did uncle Mycroft really escort the Queen to your wedding as his guest?"

"Oh yes, she was a long time fan of your fathers. She insisted. Very sweet and down to earth. I was so honored when she invited me to tea." Molly smiled in remembrance at the personalized note Her Majesty had sent Sherlock stating that clothing was optional. Oh how the man had blinked and blushed! This portion of the tale she had left out however. Goodness knows she went through enough clothing battles with the girls and their required school uniforms to mention that the highest ruler in the land has respond in such a manner to their fathers antics. Goodness knows they had enough spunk as it was!

And it was after the second such day that they were assembling the kitten puzzle for the 4th time that The phone rang. Desperate for something different the girls came tumbling into the kitchen where their mother sat on the phone and slid into their seats. "Ah here they are darling. I'm putting you on speaker.

"There. Can you hear us?"

"Clear as a bell. Hello ladies! Comment allez-vous?"

A chorus of Dad, Daddy and one drawn out 'daaaaddd' rang out in greeting along with a chorus of kisses from Rosie.

"Well?" Sherlock asked.

"Bien" Violet answered with an almost pure French accent. While Rosie shrugged and yawned. Lily grumbled out 'boring!'

"Mmm. Weather still awful?"

"We've forgotten what it's like in he outside world." Lily complained.

"Mummy made this really disgusting dinner tonight, for us daddy."

"Rosie! Apologize to your mother. Now!" The voice thundered from the phone.

"But daddy-

"Oh no. It really was appalling, Sherlock. Not my best moment. But beggars can't be choosers." Molly sighed.

"We're running out of food. We might Starve. " Violet sighed.

"We won't Stave you, idiot." Lily chided.

"I'm not an idiot!" Her sister answers back.

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Girls!" Both parents chastised in unison.

"Jinx Daddy!" Rosie added. "You and mummy are funny."

Molly gave her two older girls a stern look to knock it out and they both mumbled a completely false half-hearted apology. Molly rolled her eyes. "So tell us about your day?"

"Oh me? Not to much." He paused. "Finally got a bit of a break on this case. Did a bit of running around, here and there. And you'd be proud of me. I even went to the shops! Missed my family terribly."

"You didn't!" They laughed. "We're rather proud of you for that. But shopping... Does that mean there is an end in sight?"

"You know these things, Molly. They never go fast when I want them too. When I have time for them, they stay far far away. I blame Mycroft."

"We know." Looking at the sad faces of her children she patted them each on the cheek. "How well we know."

Clearing his throat, Sherlock sighed. "Now don't you lot go and be sad because I'm not there. Chins up, my ladies. Tell me, what's the agenda for tomorrow?"

"We were slated to go to the garden at the chateau in the next village, but I doubt that's going to happen." Lily explained.

"So well starve and do the little puzzle again, and again, and again." Violet whined.

Rosie meanwhile added "Daddy, I drew a hippopotamus -."

"We're not going to starve!" Molly snapped.

"It had green polka dots and wore a hat like doctor Seuss."

"I want to go home!" Violet cried.

"Me too!" Lily agreed.

"It's really lovely and special daddy."

"Girls!"

"Can we just go, mum. Please?"

"Yeah! I'll bet we could even see daddy a little then. Let's go!"

"Guys, were booked here another whole week. The weather will turn, and everything will be better." It has to be. Wearily, she rubbed her face. "I know you miss daddy- I do too but we can't just up and go. I'm not even sure Daddy is in London."

"Quite right you are, my brilliant Molly." A voice came from the door way where the man was now standing his arms laden with cloth bags full of food.

For a moment there was silence, then once more the trio of girls flung themselves at their father delightedly giggling and the starving Lilly pressing up to kiss his cheek before tearing the bags from him to see what she could eat. Violet hugged him tightly, refusing to let go while Rosie jumped up and down singing "daddy's come! Daddy's come! Daddy's come!"

Molly meanwhile stood by her chair, holding it tightly, smiling at him waiting her turn. When the children had lost their interest, turning their attention to the biscuits Lilly had extracted from the bag he strode over to her, smiling gently and happily. "Just running around, were you?"

"Well..."

"And the case?" She asked pushing off the chair and into his opened arms, finding that perfect spot below his chin where her face fit just right. Home. Days on tension rolled off her in a single breath. They were together again.

"Not solved, but nearly." He too relaxed around her and just held her to him, "I may have to take a few calls, but I missed you all and said to hell with it. I want to be with you."

Gently he found her chin and guided it up, let if their lips meet in a tender heat flooding kiss. "Ugh. Gross!" Lily moaned. Violet 'gagged'. The third daughter munched on yet another digestive.

Sherlock raised a brow at them. "Gross? You want to see gross? Oh I'll show you Gross!" His eyes filled with mischief. "Come here wife, and greet me properly!" He gave a shout and dipped Molly, teasingly nipping at her neck which made her giggle, flail and squeal and sent the girls running. Righting his wife once more he called out "Not so fast! You girls think you will be spared? Oh no, no, no!

"Uncle John wanted me to make sure I ticked you al good and well. And I must follow the Good Doctors ordered Mustn't I?"

"That'd be new." Molly murmured, her widths soothed with the humor behind them.

He cut his eyes and kissed her once more. "Molly, you just might have to answer for that cheeky was later on. You know how I love it when your saucy."

"Oh I know. And believe me. I've missed you.." Her hands slipped down below his waste, giving his rear end a tight squeeze. "Desperately."

"Right then. Tickles then bed time?"


	14. Baison du Pardon

Set after a trilling resolution to the Moriarty conflict.

After the fanfare of the rescue, quiet was a long time coming. There were medical evaluations needed, stitches to be had/ given; statements to be made, debriefings, and one hell of a celebratory dinner out at Angelo's. Then Greg had escorted Molly home, eager to assure her as well as himself that she would be safe within her building once more.

Once the flat passed muster the detective inspector bade her goodnight, commanding she get rest. Molly had nodded her agreement before closing the door, locking it well behind him. Then turned to lean against it to still her aching, racing heart.

She was home. Safe and sound for the first time in three days. Kidnapped, physically and mentally tortured and had fought pretty damn well in meleé of the rescue. But still, as she closed her eyes all she could see was the look on Sherlock's face when he'd found her after they'd won.

That smile had made her broken heart explode with such a symphony of conflicting emotions. Joy, relief, fear, grief and love. It had taken every bit of strength she had not to launch herself at him. Wanting to embrace and strangle him all at once.

But she didn't.

As endearing as he'd looked he was still Sherlock and still never going to be hers. They would never be more than friends, and that was okay- or least it would be, eventually.

A knock pulsed gently on and through the door. Whisper soft, but still Molly couldn't stop her racing fingers from twisting the lock back, not even peeking to see that it was him... No something in her told her it was Sherlock, an intuition that proved correct. The detective looked at her, opened his mouth up and down, not saying a word and Molly in that moment knew she was a fool.

She could never believe they were simply friends when he looked at her like this.

Seemingly of their own mind her hands reached over to grab him by the lapels to spin him into her flat once more, kicking the door softly shut behind her. Sherlock didn't resist her moving him in such a manner (although she knew, he wouldn't have moved if he hadn't wanted too. No matter what number of drugs were still on his system) and his face! Oh he wore such an odd expression of sadness and adoration. Almost as if he were waiting for her to tear his face off with her words, or worse, for her to lose control of herself again and to slap him. His eyes were resolved she knew to accept which ever punishment she delt him and that's all it took for all her thoughts of speech die and her anger die.

This is the man who'd said she mattered most and today had proved it. Nearly with his own life. She could no more stay angry with him then stop loving him.

With hesitation she moved to let her hand raise to his tender side where a mere 12 hours before a blade, meant to harm her had instead met his side where he dove on from of the henchman and taken a deep gash. Molly felt his stomach tighten and breath catch at her tender touch, looking up into his eyes she saw not pain but something... Something even more terrifying yet wonderful.

Hesitantly she stepped up in tiptoe and kissed his cheek right at the corner of his velvet soft lips, giving him a near half kiss before lowering down to to see his reaction. Sherlock merely blinked once but stayed still. Molly wasn't sure what she hoped happen next. A part of her perhaps, expected him to pull her near, or more realistically, push her away before bolting to South Africa. Instead he... Stayed. Not still, just.. Close. Allowing her to still be in control.

And the control gave her the courage to lift herself up again. He must have assumed that she was going to repeat the kiss on his left, but instead at the last moment she turned her head and kissed him just at the expanse of skin below his left ear and jaw. Feeling his sudden drawing of breath.

Once more she looked at him almost indecipherably he came closer, bending his head down. Rather than meeting his lips however she raised her own and softly pressed a kiss on an old scar on his heavy brow. An embrace that nearly left him shuddering from the sheer ease of it. Her motions held forgiveness; intermixed with the intoxicating sheer relief and the tangible sense of just how close this had been to never happening. Of loosing each other forever.

She drew back and they looked at one another then slowly Molly raised her hand and tapped her own finger twice on the corner of her own mouth. Just where she'd first pressed her lips to him. In an extremely uncharistic move he bent down and did as shed bade ( it wasn't an unfamiliar embrace ... In fact, it felt very much like coming home) After the all too brief kiss she turned her head to allow him to continue replicating her kiss. He bent and pressed his lips to the corner of her hair line below her ear then ever so slowly drew the tip of his nose up and around the curve of her jaw. Molly rewarded him with sound of her exhaled breath that she'd been holding at the tender press he gave. And the sight of her eyes once more open as she looked up at him expectantly.

For a breath they looked at one another, enjoying the near tangible hum of electricity zapping between their bodies before he bent and kissed the brow of the woman who mattered the most to him. And then the inevitable finally happened. Their lips were connected moving it and against the other's Kissing one another without the knowledge of just who had moved first. Not that it mattered. For all around them the world continued to spin, lives moved on just as before, but for Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper who finally settled into her bed, wrapped tight in one another's arms the world was inherently new.

* * *

A/N. Who can name the kiss this fluff was inspired by?


	15. The Making of a Hero

Halloween sherlolly

It was a chilly and blustery Thursday night late in October that found Sherlock Holmes invading Molly Hoopers flat once more. They'd been spending more and more time together in the past few months but strictly as friends. Very close friends. But that was perfect, it was fine. If they got together a couple of nights each week and ate at one or the others it wasn't seen as any big deal. No one who knew them ever even insinuated to them about it anymore. So they just co-existed more often than not. So it wasn't all that uncommon that they found themselves that dreary evening, where after sharing a bit of dinner and a cuppa Molly left Sherlock to go and work in her bedroom while he sat stroking the cat's ginger fur while he most surely did not watch (but yes of course he watched) whatever that awful reality show that was on.

Molly could be heard in her room shoving about in her wardrobe pulling out a tote from its buried position until one smaller tote came free. Sherlock had of course heard Molly struggling, but steadfastly avoided helping with anything that sounded remotely like work.

It wasn't until a flash of color caught his eye that he decided to go see what she was up to. Heaving himself from his reclined position he strolled leisurely to the doorway of the room. Molly sat cross-legged on the floor with her back to the door as she reached in and pulled out garment after colorful garment. Looking each over and tossing it aside around her various costume pieces- cat ears and masks all lay beside her.

"Looking for something to wear to Leatrades party?" Molly startled and looked up at him over her shoulder.

"Jesus! You scared me" she laughed. "But yes."

Smirking he teased. "Can't have that." He stepped in and sat on her bed. "What are you planning to be?"

"I don't know. Nothing's really calling to me. Been there done that and all. Are you going this year?"

"Drunken strangers and terrible loud music? No, thank you I'll pass." He turned to her closet. "But there's enough awful things here that we that I'm sure we can come up with something for you to be."

"Ah right," she chuckled, " I am speaking to the one and only Sherlock Holmes, master of disguise aren't I ? So help me come up with a disguise and make it a good one. " Molly stood up and waited there by him awkwardly as he rummaged through her clothes.

Sherlock murmured pulling an occasionally shirt or dress out as he flicked through every hanging item she owned. He paused though when he reached a long black coat. One that happened to have a cornflower blue scarfed tied around it. In a very, very familiar knot.

Without a word Sherlock pulled it out and raised a questioning eyebrow to her. Molly just stared at him as the color drained then rushed back into her face. "I ... I.. um I can explain. Well you see I, that is-"

He lifted the scarf and peeked in. "Not my size Molly, but otherwise very, very like mine. Aside from quality that is. This has so much polyester in this blend to even consider calling it a tweed."

"Well I did get it from a second hand shop. I wasn't going to invest a lot into something I just bought as a joke. That's all Sherlock, it was for a silly superhero party that I never even went too and it was years ago. Right around the court case against Moriarty."

He looked at the coat set once more and hummed. "Well this should work for Lestrade's party. Why not wear this?"

"You are joking, right?" She laughed, pulling the coat away to try to move on. "I can't do that."

"Sure you can."

"Sherlock..." Molly chided.

"Molly." He sang back. "Just wear it. Why not? Are you worried you'll offend me?"

"Not offend exactly...It just doesn't seem like the most appropriate option to go as someone you know." She argued.

"It's a bit flattering, honestly." Sherlock smiled a tiny half smile. "Comparing me to a superhero, eh?" He flopped down on her bed, crossing his arms behind his head and crossing his ankles, looking for al the world like he belonged right there- _stop it Molly!_ "I suppose you could do some fake blood and go for the post Reichenbach look."

Molly turned a sad eye on him. "No thank you. I remember that look a bit all to well." Sherlock didn't seem to be able to find an answer so she moved on. "Besides what if you did decide to come. Then what?"

"What do you mean then what? The odds of me going are quite low." His mobile pinged and he fished it out, reading the message. "I've got to go take care of this. But Molly, go. Be me. You have my blessing."

He stood and walked out, Molly followed behind him as he wrapped his own coat on with that exaggerated flourish he was so fond of and twisted his own grey scarf on with finesse. "I'll consider it Sherlock. Thanks for bringing those chips for dinner."

"You are welcome." He paused looking down at her a moment before bending down to press a quick kiss to her cheek before walking out the door. In the wake of his leaving, Molly blushed like a preteen girl after her first kiss as she slowly closed the door behind him, leaning against it. She had his blessing did she? Perhaps she should try on the rest of that costume. You know, just to see.

Saturday night came warmer than expected and dry. It brought out tiny children in costumes banging on the main door shrieking for candy or tricks. After the seventeenth time, Sherlock couldn't stand it any more. He had to get out and away from Mrs Hudson's delighted coos over robots and witches.

The rest of the week the thought of Molly dressed as him had stayed in his mind. Perhaps he should just drop by Gilberts... just to see... his eyes slid over to the coat by the door before he stood and slid it on. then fiddled with the two objects on the floor beside the door. "Just a quick drop in," he swore to himself. What harm could that be?

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

The party is in full swing when he arrives, and by 'full swing' there's merely a horror movie playing on the television whilst people stood about in clumps chatting and drinking. A few played darts in the should have been dining room while others lingered near the paltry offerings of crisps and dips. All while dressed in various arrays of costume. It was a congeal, but not spectacular affair. A success, to be sure, but still those in attendance would remark on the night not for what had happened prior to Sherlock Holmes's arrival but what happened after that moment.

It was almost humorous, how everything just stopped When the local celebrity walked in sporting his famed belstaff coat and strode over to the far more petite version of himself. Molly had donned a wig and basic black trench coat to help the scarf complete her look. Every eye watched, and every breath was held as the man rounded his double with an observant eye until he'd completed his survey. The movie had been paused as the guests all continued to look on with mixtures of fear and trepidation as to what the man would say. They were all shocked when the stern look melted away leaving an amused smile and a quiet 'not bad.'

Molly blinked before she felt the corner of her mouth quark up. "Do you like it?"

"I do quite like you in it." He murmured, enjoying the flush and surprise 'oh' on her face. She looked down, briefly obscuring her eyes before they flashed back up to him. "Sherlock Holmes, are you wearing khaki ?"

"Yes." His own lips quirked into a smile, and his eyes.. oh how they mesmerized her with their endless colors. "It's part of my own costume choice."

"You dressed up? As what!?" Came Anderson's appallingly ill timed interruption.

"As my hero. The person responsible for saving my life the most." Sherlock tugged his scarf off to then lower his coat. Underneath a white lab coat appeared, visible beneath that was a hideous sweater ("that's my sweater, Sherlock! You told me you destroyed it in an experiment!" John bellowed and his former flatmate responded back, "Just the back, John. The front is still whole and still completely awful. But it worked."

Around the room different mourners were heard trying to figure out just who he was dressed as. "Is he John?"

"No John doesn't wear a lab coat."

"Who else does he know though?"

"Saves his life? He can't mean..."

"He's Molly!? What had she done."

"Of course he's Molly!" Mary called, a wee bit too drunk to let the idiots around them go on and on.

"Very good, Mary." Sherlock confirmed, reaching into his lab coat pocket and pulled out an old ID of one Molly Hooper and affixed it to the pocket of the coat. "Molly Hooper: my very own, very personal superhero."

A beat of pause filled the room as everyone tried to work out just what _that_ was supposed to mean. After a second though a nervous Anderson slid toward them and pulled up his camera. "Umm... awesome costumes. Let's get a shot of you two then?"

"So long as it doesn't go on any social media or Blogs." Molly threatened in a slightly Sherlockian manner. This caused Sherlock to look down at his smaller self and grin openly, in a such a typical, adoring, Molly-like manner. It was also the moment that Anderson snapped his picture, promising the two that it would never see the light of day.

It was a promise though the he didn't quite keep. Instead he printed it and framed it, gifting it to the two of them on the occasion of their small wedding a year or so later. And it was that copy of that would hang in the couples bedroom for many years to come.


End file.
